


The Horse With the Red Umbrella

by WarnerHedgehog



Series: The Dorchester Name Four [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Agatha Christie - Freeform, Crime, Detective, Gen, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarnerHedgehog/pseuds/WarnerHedgehog
Summary: A parody of sorts of the classic I-Know-Who-Did-It-and-I-will-reveal-all bit at the end of a lot of Poirot and Marple stories.  It's done in the form of a play script, so if you belong to a drama group and want to do a stupid short play, then go with it!The name is from a nice little café in Dorchester that is in part of an ex-theatre. it's rumoured that the title of the last play performed was called The Horse With the Red Umbrella, although no record of it exists as far as I know. This is the first part of a quartet of short plays I call the Dorchester Name Four. Each one has a name that is connected to the Dorset market town of Dorchester.
Series: The Dorchester Name Four [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692214





	1. Cast and Notes

**Cast:**

Harry Perot: private detective. Short, tidy suited gentleman in his 50s

Bernard Snivell Jr: thirtyish slimy Upper class twit and obvious candidate for political office and fraud. 

Beatrice Snivell: late twenties slightly kooky blonde gold-digger with awful New-York accent

Candice Sugarhaven: Brunette American. Younger sister of Beatrice. Level headed and calm. Slightly less annoying accent.

Inspector Alan Lummox: Put upon policeman in his 40s. Sent by Scotland Yard in order to placate young Mr. Snivell. Thinks he’s wasting his time here.

Louis Code: Inspector Lummox’s sidekick. Think of inspector Lewis but more star-struck and silly.

Cary Leach: Young butler to Bernard. Something of a Hennimore (look up Mitchell and Webb), Probably fancies Candice.

Eileen Rhatbag: Middle-aged cook to the family. Hates all the upper-class ponciness of the Snivells, but likes their money.

Mrs June Marbles: elderly nosy crime solving old loon and lifelong friend of Eileen.

Rev. George Smits: vicar in his early seventies. He has a dark secret involving eye-shadow and a dress. Could well be slightly camp.

Major Charles Growler: Retired Army major with handlebar moustache and bluff, forthright manner. Often gets the wrong end of the stick old boy.

Dame Carolyn Smarm: Retired stage actress and good-time girl. Dressed a bit Barbara Cartland-ish but with a sense of style.

Notes:  
1) To those proof reading or something similar. These cast notes were partially to give me an idea of what the characters were like as I typed away. Not every idea above will be used. Possibly.

2) To other writers. Any similarity to other copyrighted works is unintentional. Why not consider it to be flattery anyway? Besides, I bet your stuff ends better.

3) The exception to number 2 is Agatha Christie. The resemblance to her works is very intentional, but then they were very good.


	2. The Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual script bit. Scary isn't it?

  
**Scene**   
**AN UPPER-CLASS DRAWING ROOM AFFAIR, WITH A FIREPLACE WITH MANTLEPIECE TO ONE SIDE AND A COUPLE OF SOFAS ARRANGED ON THE OTHER. THE SEATS ARE TAKEN UP WITH PEOPLE WHO LOOK MOSTLY BORED. THERE COULD WELL BE A COFFEE TABLE IN FRONT OF THEM WITH SOME PAPERS AND A COPY OR TWO OF THE SCRIPT, THERE IS A CUPBOARD OF SOME DESCRIPTION BEHIND THEM WITH A BRANDY DECANTER AND A COUPLE OF GLASSES ON THE TOP.**   
**BERNARD SNIVELL LOOKS FIDGETY AND AS IF THIS IS THE LAST PLACE HE WANTS TO BE. DETECTIVE PEROT IS STANDING BY THE MANTELPIECE LOOKING SMUG.**

PEROT.:  
Ladies and gentlemen, Thank you for joining me here this evening. No doubt you are familiar with the events of the last few days?

**A WAVE OF GENERAL MURMURING AND MUTTERING PASSES OVER THE GROUP.**

BERNARD:  
 **LEAPS TO HIS FEET IN OUTRAGE. HE POINTS A FINGER AT PEROT.**  
Of course we are, damn you, you French prat. Is that why you’ve dragged all of us here?

PEROT:  
All will be revealed soon enough. And if you must know I Am NOT French.

BERNARD:  
 **SOMEWHAT DEFLATED**  
Oh all right then. Belgian prat.

PEROT:  
I am neither French nor Belgian. I just put this outrageous accent on to sound more sophisticated, but I’m from Hounslow. Please calm yourself Mr. Snivell. 

BERNARD:  
I will do no such thing sir! You have no power to make one such as me shut up! I am the lord of this manor and shall do what I like.

PEROT:  
No you are not sir. Your insanely rich father is. You’re just the family money pit. Now sit down and shut up.

BERNARD:  
 **BERNARD GOES FROM INDIGNANT RAGE TO SHEEPISH EMBARRASMENT IN A MICROSECOND AND SITS DOWN.**

**(Quietly)** Oh bugger. I thought you would have forgotten that by now. Sorry everyone.

REV. GEORGE:  
By Jingo Mr. Perot! You mean you know who took the Horse?

PEROT:  
Not only that Reverend, but I know why and where it is hidden. If you indulge me for a moment, I shall reveal all.

  
MAJOR:  
Of course he’s solved it George, he’s a world famous private detective old boy. It’ll all be sorted out in no time.

BEATRICE:  
Yeah, come on Mr. Per Row. Tell us where the stupid pile of junk is so we can get back to trying out cocktails.

CANDICE:  
Oh come on Now Bea. You know it doesn’t work like that. 

CAROLYN:  
Absolutely my dear Candice, he can’t simply say “it was him or her” and have done with it. First he’s got to go through the night’s events in a smug “I know what you did” sort of way, going through everyone’s motives and whereabouts and then reveal the truth of things with some over-dramatic flourish.

LUMMOX:  
That’ll do everybody. We all know the script. I hope we do anyway. Please just calm down and let the fat fool do his bit.

PEROT:  
Thank you Inspector Flummox. As I was saying, we are here tonight because someone has stolen the Horse with the Red Umbrella. Yet I know the identity of the thief, how they stole it and where it is hidden. But as has just been explained, I’ll make an overpriced meal of the whole sorry business and drag it out for far longer than is necessary. Everyone here has something to gain from the theft of the infamous knick-knack: you for example Candice. You have one or two gambling debts that the black-market sale of a valuable antique like the Horse would happily tidy up.

CANDICE:  
You’re quite correct Mr. Perot, I have racked up a little money trouble of late, but I didn’t take the Horse. It’s too obvious a target. I considered blackmail for a while as well, but it’s too much trouble.

PEROT:  
Didn’t it occur to you before you started to hang around in casinos that you were rubbish at gambling?

CANDICE:  
You would have thought so wouldn’t you? But it turns out that I’m just not that smart that way.

JUNE:  
You haven’t considered a bank loan?

CANDICE:  
And rack up even more debt, and a debt to some random lifeless badly-suited bank minkey? No chance.   
**A SMUG SMILE STARTS TO CREEP ACROSS HER FACE**  
Besides, I’ve already got an easy solution to the problem: I have decided to go for the simple route of high-class prostitution. A few one-nighters at 5 grand a pop should sort me out in no time.

**MUTERINGS OF DISSAPROVAL AND HAUGHTINESS PASS THROUGH THE GROUP.**

PEROT:  
And you’ve already started haven’t you? Isn’t that why you’re really here?

CANDICE:  
 **LOOKS EVEN MORE SELF-SATISFIED.**  
Absolutely. I had a couple of clients to “meet” this weekend. I did one last night and tomorrow I’m getting paid over 10 thousand for a threesome.

BEATRICE:  
CANDY! I had no idea you were a hooker! I always thought you were a bit of a slut though.  
 **CANDICE LOOKS AT BEATRICE IN MOCK SHOCK**

CANDICE:  
My dear sister, I am not a hooker! They work street corners in LA. I am an extremely expensive and classy escort, and won’t hear you say otherwise.

REV. GEORGE:  
That is naughty and wicked and you should be utterly ashamed of yourself. But as you’re not you can give us the gossip instead. Enlighten us child – who are you going to be servicing then? 

CANDICE:  
Now now reverend. A lady never tells, and nor do I. Besides, this smutty stuff could drag on for at least 5 more pages and not leave enough room for the main plot: Back to you Mr. Perot.

PEROT:  
Thank you Candice. That was getting far too smutty for a play like this and was distracting from the main story. Speaking of which...  
 **HE CALMLY WALKS BACK TO THE MANTLEPEICE AND THEN TURNS TO ADDRESS LADY CAROLYN.**  
Dame Smarm. You also have money worries do you not? 

LOUIS:  
I knew it! You’re Dame Carolyn Smarm the famous actress aren’t you? I thought I recognised you! Please would you autograph my notebook?

LUMMOX:  
Calm down Louis. This is a VERY serious investigation. There’ll be time enough for getting star-struck later. We must remain professional while we’re wasting our time...sorry...investigating this crime.

PEROT:  
Thank you for that pointless interruption Mr. Code. Can we get on please?   
**LOUIS LOOKS SHEEPISH AND NODS**  
Dame Smarm, your acting career has gone rather quiet recently and we all know how the bills pile up.

CAROLYN:  
Very true Mr. Perot, very true. 

PEROT:  
And is it not also the case that you have a peculiar addiction to the enormously prolific FD Paul, his novels and associated TV productions?   
  
CAROLYN:  
Also sadly true: I’m afraid that when you’re an actress, there are times when the decent work gets few and far between, and all you have to fall back on are a few insurance comparison website adverts: And if that’s the case then you need other ways of getting your hands on a little spending money, so you may not know that I invested on the stock exchange a few years back and made quite a tidy sum. So now I can afford to loaf around all day and drink gin! CHEERS!  
 **SHE RAISES HER GLASS IN A JOVIAL FASHION**

PEROT:  
And then there’s the diamond mine you own. It’s safe to say that you are innocent of this heinous crime, so we can move on yes? But to whom do we turn next? To The Reverend George Smits, that’s who. What could drive a man of the cloth to steal a valuable object such as the Horse hmmm?

REV. GEORGE:  
What are you implying Mr. Perot? Are you seriously suggesting that I, the vicar of St. Dunny on the Wold would commit a crime?

LOUIS:  
Come on now Mr. Perot, Reverend Smits is a respected vicar and upstanding member of the community. There is nothing in his impeccable character to imply any sort of criminal activity. Are you suggesting that a man in that position would carry out a petty theft?

PEROT:  
Yes I am, if that position involved having to deal with a blackmailer who knew your secret - a secret that would bring shame and disapproval, not to mention the wrath of the C of E onto your head.

BEATRICE:  
NOW this is getting interesting! Come on Mr. Per Row, are you going to let us in on this secret?

PEROT:  
Of Course I am! Our reverend friend has been working the pubs and clubs of our nation’s capital under an assumed identity, namely that of the noted London cabaret drag act Brandy Glass!

JUNE:  
 **JUNE IS THOROUGHLY ENJOYING HERSELF POSSIBLY DUE TO BEING SLIGHTLY TIPSY. SHE’S WAVING HER GLASS AROUND IN AN EXPRESSIVE MANNER.**  
I always thought you were something of a bore Reverend. Now it seems you’re a total drag too! Who knew?!

REV. GEORGE:  
What... splutter....How......How Do you know about Brandy Glass. Nobody knew about her! 

EILEEN:  
Brandy Glass? I never knew you were that way inclined! You’re not going to go for the full...snip-snip are you?

REV. GEORGE:  
My dear lady, I’m not trans-gender or trans-sexual if that’s what you’re implying: I merely perform a cabaret act in a dress that’s all. It started out as a joke, but turned out to be quite a good money-spinner. Mr Perot, you haven’t told me how you knew about my...alternate identity.

PEROT:  
I am Perot: the world’s greatest detective. There is nothing that is hidden from me for long. That and I am the administrator of the Facebook Brandy Glass appreciation page, but I digress – You are being blackmailed by an old acquaintance who also knows your little secret. 

REV. GEORGE:  
You are correct Mr Perot, well almost. I like to think that the situation has changed: I WAS being blackmailed, but no more, because by a stroke of good fortune I appear to have found out my adversary’s identity as well as a few juicy little secrets of his. I like to think of it as fighting fire with fire. 

PEROT:  
Well put dear Reverend. It’s fair to say you have more dirt on your...”friend” than he has on you nes pas? You are therefore out of the frame, so we must look elsewhere. Our hunt now leads us on to the next potential criminal, Major Charles Growler!

**PEROT TURNS TO FACE THE MAJOR WHO IS LOOKING A BIT SHOCKED, BUT MOSTLY BORED.**

MAJOR:  
You can’t think it was me – I was in the parlour all evening with Lady Carolyn, who’s a bloody good laugh I must say

CAROLYN:  
Why thank you major. You’re not so bad yourself either. 

BEATRICE:  
Oh My God! It’s turning into an old folks flirting contest. Much more of this and I’ll be sick. Get a room!

CANDICE:  
Ewwwwww! It’s just not right. There ought to be a law or something against it.

JUNE:  
There’s nothing wrong with old folks flirting you two. Leave the old fools to it.

PEROT:  
Never the less, you’re another victim of blackmail so I believe. A person who shall remain nameless claims they saw you going in to several, shall we say...gentlemen’s clubs in London? They’re asking for quite a bit of...hush money in order to stop them releasing incriminating photographs to the press.

CAROLYN:  
 **LOOKS AT THE MAJOR IN SHOCK.**  
Major Charles Growler, you dirty old man! Well I never!

**SHE LOOKS AWAY IN DISGUST.**

MAJOR:  
 **LOOKS AT CAROLYN AND THEN BACK TO PEROT. HE’S CLEARLY NOT HAPPY AS HE STANDS UP AND POKES PEROT IN THE CHEST.**  
For God’s sake you hat-wearing ponce, you know full well that it’s all an outrageous lie, and that the photographs are just photoshopped rubbish, so why in the name of Stephen Mulhern did you bring it up here? I know they’re photoshopped as the man in question sent me one as proof. I had it analysed by an expert. I also had his IP address traced. I’m being blackmailed over something I didn’t do by some pillock who’s fabricated some el cheapo ‘evidence’ in order to get some cash. I know exactly who it is as well, so he’s not going to get away with it. So there.  
 **HE SITS BACK DOWN AGAIN.**

CAROLYN:  
Is it REALLY all a pack of lies Major?

MAJOR:  
Yes it is. All made up by a fool in a wig and a tweed suit who works at a well-known and very poor national newspaper. But he forgets that I know his Editor AND the paper’s owner so if he wants to keep his job he’d best drop the whole thing.

CAROLYN:  
I never knew. I take it all back!

**SHE GIVES HIM A HUG AND A KISS ON THE CHEEK.**

Next victim Mr. P.

PEROT:  
Next we come to Eileen, the house cook. What would someone with no apparent motive want to steal a valuable antique for we ask? Simple. It’s the money you’re after. You’re fed up with cooking for a bunch of ungrateful stuck-up ponces and want to get away from here. You want to start your own catering business do you not? A small fortune gained by selling a hideous thing like that would come in quite handy wouldn’t it Mrs. Rhatbag?

EILEEN:  
Quite correct Mr. Perot.  
 **STARTLED GASPS AND SHOCKED FACES FROM THE ASSEMBLED CAST.**  
I would absolutely love to get away from this house full of demanding, moaning upper-class nitwits. Selling that god-awful bit of tat would certainly net me quite a bit of the capital I need to start up my own company. Shame I didn’t do it really.  
 **SHE CASTS A SNIDE GLANCE AT THE SNIVELS.**

BERNARD:  
I’d be glad to be rid of you to be honest. You’re always forgetting things. You forgot my bloody fried egg at breakfast for one.

EILEEN:  
I did not forget it. The other day you said you were going on a diet because you were getting a tad porky and I wasn’t to do them anymore. 

BEATRICE:  
You’re not wrong there Eileen. He’s turning into a bit of a fat old thing these days. 

EILEEN:  
Thank you milady. Besides, I don’t need to steal some rubbish from a car boot sale. I was going to keep it quiet until tomorrow, but since the subject of money has been raised, I won the Euro Lotto jackpot on Friday and am now in a happy position to say “I QUIT!!” HA! Take that lord monkeyface!

**EILEEN PULLS AN ENVELOPE FROM A POCKET SOMEWHERE AND THROWS IT AT BERNARD. SHE THEN WAVES A COUPLE OF FINGERS AT HIM. EVERYONE LOOKS SHOCKED AND ENVIOUS.**

JUNE:  
Wasn’t it a triple rollover with a possible jackpot of 200 million?

EILEEN:  
That it was Mrs. M! There was one ticket that won the lot, and that was mine! So lord Snivvy, how’d you like them’s apples? I am considerably richer than yow to the tune of quite a lot, so there! 

BEATRICE:  
So when you went off sick on Saturday, you were actually off to collect your winnings?

EILEEN:  
Yep! That I was Mrs Sniv...sorry, I’m forgetting my new place, Beatrice. I guess your demented husband will have to find another cook to push about.

BERNARD:  
 **LOOKS AT EILEEN, STUNNED THAT A LOWLY COOK IS NOW WELL ABOVE HIM IN THE RICH LIST.**  
W...what? You kept that a secret you sneaky old bat. Since I pay you, that should be rightfully mine, it was bought with MY money after all.  
 **BERNARD STICKS HIS NOSE IN THE AIR WITH CONTEMPT. EVERYONE LOOKS AT HIM AS IF HE’S AN ALIEN.**

LOUIS:  
What do you mean YOUR money? When you paid her, the money became hers didn’t it? That’s the whole idea of pay. Come to think of it, YOU don’t work yet you spend your dad’s money on all this expensive junk.   
**LOUIS INDICATES ALL THE FURNITURE**  
Your failed logic makes this all his, not yours. You’re just an expensive lodger and a drain on resources.

LUMMOX:  
Leave the leech..sorry, the man alone Louis. He’s the apparent victim here.

LOUIS:  
 **(MUTTERS)** Yeah – Victim of a fashion accident.

PEROT:  
Quite so. Thank you inspector Lummox for interrupting that. We’ve only got a few pages left and that could have gone on all night. May I continue with the main story?

LUMMOX:  
Certainly. Please don’t interrupt the fool...sorry the detective any more. I’m sure we don’t want this to drag on any more than it has to, and it’s been going on for way more than necessary already .

**EVERYONE NODS AND MURMURS IN AGREEMENT.**

PEROT:  
So, to continue we come to Mrs June Marbles, the famous crime solver and nosy old bat.

JUNE:  
 **JUNE LOOKS SHOCKED AT PEROT’S INSULT.**  
What did you call me?

PEROT:  
A nosy old bat. Wellll it is true isn’t it? Your famed throughout the world for poking your nose into crime cases, often murders that you’re curiously present for. It sort of reminds me of that crime writing woman, what’s her name? **CLICKS HIS FINGERS WHILE TRYING TO RECALL THE NAME** Jessie Bowyer. Wherever she goes, someone gets killed, she proceeds to solve the murder and then goes and writes a book about it. Very suspicious character if you ask me. Murder She Wrote? Murder She Committed more like.

JUNE:  
Are you suggesting that I stole the Horse, hid it and then tried to pin it on someone just so there could be a crime for me to solve?

PEROT:  
It’s not that unreasonable idea is it? The crime solving game has gotten a little quiet for you of late hasn’t it? You used to be in the papers every week miraculously solving some murder that the coppers could even begin to figure out, but you haven’t been featured for over two months now. I suspect you’re getting a bit bored.

GEORGE:  
I may be a drag my lady, but at least I’m not a Fame hog. You were saying only yesterday that you hoped there would be a big juicy crime for you to solve. Get a bit impatient did we?

JUNE:  
Look you skirt wearing nerk, solving a murder is one thing, but hiding some stupid toy and claiming some fool misplaced “accidentally” is a bit on the rubbish side don’t you think? Face it, that Jessie Bowyer wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole, probably because it wouldn’t warrant a dozen pages, let alone a whole book.

**DURING THIS LITTLE EXCHANGE EVERYONE HAS STARTED TO GOSSIP TO EACH OTHER ABOUT WHAT THEY’VE BEEN HEARING. THE HUBBUB HAS SLOWLY BEEN GETTING LOUDER.**

PEROT:

**(Loudly)**  
Excuse me ladies and gentlemen!  
 **HE CLAPS HIS HANDS TWICE. THE GIBBERING DIES DOWN.**  
Thank You. As we have already said, there aren’t many pages left in the script, so there’s no space for a drawn out argument. Save it for later. I think it’s fair to say that you may have had a motive – namely boredom, but not the opportunity. You’ve spent most of your time here trying to chat up old Smellors the gardener. With no luck I may add because as it turns out, he’s gay.

EILEEN:  
You’re right. He’s been seeing Eric the Postman for the last few months. It’s quite sweet really.

JUNE:  
Oh bugger. I thought I was in with a chance there. Knickers. Any other eligible men here?   
**SHE QUICKLY SCANS THE CAST AND THEN SCANS THE AUDIENCE A COUPLE OF TIMES. SHE STOPS AND SIPS HER DRINK**  
I suppose not. Anyway, who haven’t you insulted yet?

PEROT:  
 **PEROT SCANS THE ROOM AS IF TRYING TO WORK OUT WHAT HE’S DOING.**  
Ermm, hang on.   
**GRABS A COPY OF THE SCRIPT AND FINDS THE RIGHT PLACE. SCANS THE PAGE AND CHUCKS THE SCRIPT BACK DOWN**  
Now we move onto Lady Beatrice Snivell, First Lady of Manhattan. How are the elocution lessons going?

BEATRICE:  
Not bad Mr. Per Row. I’m slowly getting the hang of the British accent. You limeys sure have a weird way with words though. 

MAJOR:  
Not as weird as your voice though. Have you thought of taking a vow of silence?

PEROT:  
Excuse me, can we get back to the plot please? Thank you. Now then Beatrice, you have had a little obsession of late haven’t you? 

BERNARD:  
What are you on about man? She’s been fine. No worries, no problems. Nothing.

PEROT:  
I presume you don’t know about her...internet obsession then? She’s addicted to those Online Bingo sites. And she’s racked up quite a bill too.

CANDICE:  
Bea! And after you said that those sites were just for the sort of gullible nimrods who don’t have a nickel’s worth of brain cells between them.

BEATRICE:  
I know Candice, but it’s true. I’ve been addicted to Sexy Bingo for the past year. I went on for a laugh and won a tenner. The next day I won a hundred pounds. At Christmas I realised I was hooked and have been seeking help. I’ve been to a therapist and a councillor.

BERNARD:  
About bloody time too you fruitcake.

BEATRICE:  
Shut up dear, you’re not helping things. Anyway, they’ve been very helpful in getting me over it. Next week the final bit of the bill will be paid and I’ll be free of it.

PEROT:  
You could have sold the horse and cleared it today, but you didn’t did you? That is because the horse was taken by none other than...  
 **EVERYONE BREATHES IN AT ONCE**  
Sir Bernard Snivell! You hid the horse with the intention of claiming its value on the insurance. It was an elaborate fraud sir, but I naturally saw straight though it. 

BERNARD:  
That is an outrageous lie sir. I have never been so insulted! 

PEROT:  
It is not a lie as you well know. To prove it, I will show you all where the Horse is, for it is in this very room!   
**PEROT GOES OVER TO A HITHERTO UNUSED CUPBOARD OF SOME SORT AND OPENS THE LOWER DOORS. IN IT IS A SAFE. HE DIALS IN A COMBINATION AND OPENS IT. INSIDE IS SOMETHING THAT LOOKS LIKE A HORSE. HE REMOVES IT AND OFFERS IT TO INSPECTOR LUMMOX WHO LOOKS AT IT WITHTHE WORLD’S LEAST IMPRESSED FACE.**  
There you go inspector. One horse as requested.

BEATRICE:  
Oh Mr. Per Row you silly man, that’s not the Horse. That’s the model I made at night school. It’s not very good I’m afraid. I thought it was fantastic when I made it, but when I brought it home it Looked nothing like the real thing. I was still proud of it, but Bernard threatened to smash it, so I locked it in that safe.

PEROT:  
What? I was CERTAIN that was it. If that’s not it then I, Detective Perot am defeated. I do not know where the horse is.

**IN UNISON EVERYONE SAYS ‘USELESS’.**

CANDICE:  
So that leaves us with an important question – if none of us took it, who did?

CARY:  
 **THEN CARY THE BUTLER KNOCKS AND ENTERS THE ROOM TOWING A WOODEN HORSE ON WHEELS. ITS GOT AN UMBRELLA COMING OUT OF ITS BACK. A RED UMBRELLA. HE GOES OVER TO BERNARD.**

I’m back Mr. S. I took the horse to be cleaned as you asked. Sorry I took so long but there was quite a bit of traffic going into town, and I got stuck behind a tractor on the way back. Errr...why is everyone staring?

PEROT:  
Mr. Leach. We were under the impression the horse had been stolen. You had it all this time?

CARY:  
Yes Sir. Last night Mr. Snivell asked me to take the Horse to the antique restorer in town. He’d been meaning to do it but hadn’t got round to it. To be fair, he WAS drunk at the time but an order is an order.

BERNARD:  
Oh God...I forgot all about that. I asked young Cary here to take the horse to be tidied up as it was getting a bit grotty. It completely slipped my mind. False alarm everyone, still - No harm done.

**INSPECTOR LUMMOX AND LOUIS LOOK AT EACH OTHER FOR A FEW SECONDS, THEN LUMMOX NODS AT LOUIS WHO PROMPTLY GOES AND HANDCUFFS SIR BERNARD.**

BERNARD:  
What? Release me this instant! How very dare you? 

LOUIS:  
I dare very easily as it happens. Would you be so kind as to explain to the gentleman good inspector?

LUMMOX:  
Why certainly. I am arresting you Sir Bernard Snivell for wasting police time and the audience’s patience. Lead on Louis.

**LOUIS MARCHES BERNARD OFF. LUMMOX FOLLOWS AD-LIBBING BERNARD’s RIGHTS. BEATRICE FOLLOWS SAYING SOMETHING ABOUT THEM NOT BEING ALLOWED TO THIS AND THEY HAVE NO RIGHTS. THE USUAL STUFF.**

REV. GEORGE:  
Mr. Perot. Before all this happened, did you have ANY idea what the horse looked like?

PEROT:  
None at all Reverend. I’ve never clapped eyes on it until now.

MAJOR:  
And you never thought to get a picture, or even ask for a description?

CAROLYN:  
In my book that makes you a complete twit really. I mean, hunting for something and not knowing what it looked like. You’re a bloody Fool.

JUNE:  
Well, what have we learned from this? For one, never hire a detective with a fake accent, and secondly you can take a horse to water and this ending stinks. 

**The end.**


End file.
